After Tonight
by ShatteredSnowflake
Summary: What happened between Ron and Hermione the summer after their 6th year of Hogwarts? Did they grow closer without Harry around? Read on for Romione fluff...


Hermione

Thoughts swirled through Hermione's head like buzzing bees, fighting desperately to break free. Thoughts, wishes, fears, hopes, dreams, questions. So many questions. Would today be the week, the month, or even the year? When would he finally notice her? After all these years... Oh, when?

Ron

He couldn't eat breakfast. He was too nervous, too scared, too... excited. He looked back down at his sausages and eggs. He had hardly touched them.

"Are you all right, dear?" Mrs. Weasley bustled up behind him. "You've hardly eaten anything!" Molly Weasely knew when to be worried, and Ron not eating was a time to worry.

"I'm fine, mum," Ron said shortly. Because he _was_ fine. He was more than fine. He was filled with hope, a big bubble of hope. Wishes, dreams, swirled through his head. Hermione was coming. They would be together... alone... for once without Harry around...

He shook that last thought out of his mind. How could he be glad that Harry wasn't around? Harry was his best mate, his friend through thick and thin... But he couldn't deny that, over recent years, Harry had just seemed to get in the way between himself and Hermione. He could never shake off the jealousy, the suspicion that Hermione had her eye on Harry, so often found himself believing that she would never like him, not _him_ over The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived...

But she was coming today... and Harry was not around... would she finally notice him?

Hermione

Her trunk was packed, she was ready to go. She took one last look in the mirror. Her jeans and tank top had the perfect 'pretty, yet casual' look to make her outfit look effortless and her hair was as un-bushy as it would get. She pulled herself away from the mirror in disgust for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. This was _so_ not her. Since when did she care so much about how she looked? _Since you noticed Ron_ said a quiet voice inside her head, _since you fell in love._ She shook off the snide little voice, even as she knew in full certainty that it was right. Picking up her trunk, Hermione left the room. It was time to leave.

Ron

Ron glanced at the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning. 11:50. In just ten minutes Hermione was due to arrive. What would happen in the weeks before they transferred Harry? With Harry out of the picture, - just for a short while, he reassured his conscience - anything could happen...

11:51. In less than ten minutes Hermione be there. He felt feverish with excitement...

11:53. He tried not to look too eager. Unlike Ginny, who was sitting on the windowsill overlooking the street, her flaming red hair covering her face, her thin arms wrapped around her knees, gazing out the window... Yes, Ginny _did_ seem very eager for Hermione to arrive. But her reason was far more innocent than his: Hermione was her friend. For Ron, well, it wasn't quite as simple...

11:56. He could already imagine her walking up the driveway. He would learn a lot from her expression: If she was happy to see him... If she had been looking forward to seeing him... Oh, how he wished she had been...

11:58. Why did she have to take so long? He didn't think he could stand it a minute longer...

11:59. Time seemed to be moving slower than usual, mocking him...

12:01. Where was she? Didn't she know how hard it was for him to wait, to watch the seconds drag by slowly... so painfully slowly...

12:02. The driveway remained empty, so aggravatingly empty. Devoid of people, but devoid most of all of the one person he wanted to see so badly... So very badly... So very badly it hurt...

And suddenly she was there. Striding up the driveway, trunk in hand, hair blowing about her face in the breeze.

Ginny jumped up and flung open the door, greeting Hermione with a big smile and a hug.

Ron just stood there. Too excited, too nervous, too _scared_ to move, his heart beating, pumping, pounding to the rhythm of Hermione's steps on the driveway as she talked animatedly with Ginny, smiling, laughing, all the while coming closer, closer, closer... Closer to _him_...

As if in a dream, Ron saw the door open, saw a pair of girlish sandals step into the house, smelled a scent wafting through the door that reminded him of school, of countless correct answers, of friends, a flowery smell that back years of longing as well...

And she looked at him. And the brown eyes looked into the blue, and the blue glazed back, at those deep brown eyes... And he saw what he had wanted to see, what he had wished to see, what he had hoped beyond hope to see in her eyes: happiness to see him, a strong happiness, beyond any other... But there was something else in her eyes, something that puzzled him, something that he had felt so, so many times about her, so very many times: Longing, and a bubble of hope.

Hermione

"Ron."

She felt a thrill grip her as she saw in his face how glad he was to see her, how much he had been looking forward to seeing her, and -could it be?- how many hopes he, too, held for the next few weeks.

"Hermione."

"Hermione! How wonderful to see you!" Molly Weasley exclaimed, enveloping her in a warm, motherly hug.

Hermione smiled. "It's great to see you too, Mrs. Weasley." She responded, trying to reciprocate the warmth, though her mind was a million miles away.

Ron. For years the word had evoked confused, mixed feelings, and, as time went on, they only become more complicated. Would all the inner turmoil finally come to an end? Ron and Hermione. They sounded perfect in her mind. Could it finally become a reality?

"Ginny." Mrs. Weasley's voice snapped Hermione out of her reverie. "Help Hermione bring her things into your room and show her her bed. I'm sure she must be tired."

"Right, Mum," Ginny said airily, turning to Hermione and attempting to heave her trunk upstairs.

"It's all right," Hermione reassured her, drawing her wand and causing her wand to float gently upstairs with a flick of her wand. "I can handle it." She grinned.

Ginny smiled and followed the trunk upstairs, gesturing for Hermione to come too. She stopped by her door, which was adorned by a new ornamental plaque. 'Ginny' was written on it in big, swirly, colorful letters.

"Made it a few days ago," Ginny remarked, nodding at the sign. "You like?"

"Wow, it's gorgeous," Hermione said, with genuine interest, leaning closer to examine the flawless glaze finish. "Did you use a Glaze Charm on this?"

"Fred did it for me," Ginny said, pushing the door open. She made a face. "Still underage."

Hermione smiled sympathetically. "Yeah, it's annoying."

"You bet!" Ginny agreed. "Here, this is your bed." She added, pointing to a bed set next to her own.

"Thanks." Hermione dropped her small, beaded bag on the bed, which emitted a curiously loud noise for its size, as though many things were falling and tumbling inside, and then flicked her wand carelessly, causing her trunk to set itself down neatly beside the bed.

With a sigh, Hermione sank onto her bed. now that she was comfortable and settled, her mind wandered back to that hidden cavity at the back of her mind, the jumble of mixed up feelings which had been growing for years, a place which had not only been occupying more and more space over the years, but had seemed to be visited more and more frequently over the years as well... Especially recently...

But did he have any feelings for her? The question came again, a nagging query, and unrelenting wonder. She should make the first move. But, no. What if he didn't like her, had never thought of her in that way? But he had looked so happy to see her, so... _hopeful_...

Why was it so hard? With Viktor, making the moves had been easy. But then, with Viktor, she had known he was crazy about her. But that had ended ages ago. Maybe the reason it had been so easy with Viktor was because she had always known, in the back of her mind, that it was only temporary, practically a fling, a blazing fire that had burned itself out, reduced to ashes, within a year or two, as it had flared up so quickly in the first place... It hadn't mattered. Not really. But this did.

Hermione gave a small smile as she remembered the ice between her and Ron when she continued going out with Viktor. Ron had been so cold, for so long... But there! There was proof that he liked her, proof that he had liked her at least in their fourth year... How mad he had been at the Yule Ball; she had gone with Viktor... He had been so coldly _furious_ for _ages_ in their fourth year; she had still been going strong with Viktor... Oh, the things that had happened between her and Viktor... It had seemed wonderful at the time... But still, she felt so guilty, so mixed up. Didn't she like Ron? Then how could she be with Viktor? What had been between them had truly wonderful at the time, yet it felt like a betrayal to her inner feelings... her feelings for Ron...

She would make the first move. Whether Ron liked her, or not, though all the indications _did_ seem to point to the former, - she felt so _ecstatic_ just thinking about it - whether he liked her or not, she would make the first move.

Ron

He looked up as the door opened. It was Hermione. His limbs felt very heavy, and he was suddenly very aware of his body, and how he looked, sprawled on his bed in jeans and a rumbled bright orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt, reading comic books.

"Hey." She sat down on the edge of his bed, and he scrambled to sit up.

"Hey." He responded. Why had she come?

"So, how's your holiday been?" Hermione asked, determinedly casual.

Ron shrugged. "It's been good." He grinned and tried to lighten the mood. "There's just the slight downside of there being a war against" - he paused - "You-Know-Who going on in the background."

Hermione nodded seriously, seeming to discard the humor and sarcasm, instead digging deeper into the grave truth beneath it. "Yeah," she agreed. "It was hard to have fun with my mum and dad, knowing how many terrible things were happening out there. How many people were being murdered..." She trailed off, looking at him.

Ron felt uncomfortable. This was not where he had intended the conversation to go. But maybe it was a good thing they were thinking about something less casual, something more real. Maybe it would be easier to bond, to really bond, over something like this...

"Yeah." Ron spoke slowly, deliberately. "War is terrible. So many things are lost. So many... _people_ are lost."

Hermione

He looked at her. And she had the perfect thing to say, but... it was too soon.

No. If it wasn't now, it just wouldn't happen. They'd known each other too long to act as though they'd just met.

And, as though her mouth was moving of its own accord, the words came spilling out. Slowly, softly, tenderly. In a whisper.

"At least we still have each other."

Surprise filled those blue eyes, and such, such relief that it struck her off guard for a second. And it was in that moment, when they looked into each other's eyes, when they seemed to read each other's mind, that she realized, suddenly, and with such clarity: He liked her. He really liked her. And his feelings seemed impossibly, yet truthfully, practically identical to hers.

Ron

She liked him. The realization surged through his body, warming his heart, leaving behind an exhilarating sense of ability. Hermione liked him. He felt like he could do anything.

Hermione

He put his arm around her. "Yes. We still have each other," she heard him say in an attempt at a gentle voice, but she was still thinking about his hand on her, and the tingling sensation it was spreading through her body. She scooted closer.

Ron

She was getting closer. He leaned in as well.

Hermione

Would it happen?

Ron

She was still getting closer. He felt curiously peaceful…

Hermione

She knew it was going to happen before it did… And their lips met.

Ron

Later, he lay on his bed once again. On the outside, he looked exactly as he had beforehand, lounging on his bed, his t-shirt and jeans as wrinkled as ever, but on the inside…

It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders; He felt happier than he had in a long time, utterly content and completely weightless, as though he could lift up his arms and fly, soaring effortlessly through the sky…

She had kissed him. She had kissed him and he had kissed her back, and he felt as though a new chapter in his life were opening up, a vast, new world of tantalizing possibilities, a glittering universe of infinite, glorious potential…

Hermione

Triumphant. That was the word she would use to describe the way she felt. Triumphant. She had finally done it. She had Ron Weasley. But the euphoria pulsating through her body, taking over her mind, obscuring all other thought, stemmed not only from the fact that she had kissed him, but from the fact that he had kissed her back.

Boyfriend. The word had meant many things over the years. Before she had even gotten her letter, it had popped up in wishful dreams about a dark haired boy in the grade above her. Once she got to Hogwarts, one or two other boys' names became wistfully associated with the word as well. At another point, the word felt heavily of Viktor Krum. And recently, it had been popping up in her mind when she thought of Ron.

But it wasn't wishful thinking anymore. With what had happened between them tonight, she was sure that, very soon, they could truly be boyfriend and girlfriend.

 ** _A/N: Hi readers! First of all, thank you so much for taking the time to read my fanfic out of the vast, vast world of worthy fics out there! Second, I just want to say that I know this fic is extremely innocent, and overly-fluffy. I wrote it a really long time ago, but I figured I might as well post it now, 'cause what the hell? :) Thanks again, fellow Potterheads!_**

 ** _Mischief Managed,_**

 ** _ShatteredSnowflake_**


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